


Almost (Sweet Music)

by to_one_thing_constant_never



Series: Wasteland, Baby! [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Because of course it is this is the Good Omens fandom, Dancing, Emotional Constipation, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Inspired by a Hozier Song, Love Confessions, M/M, POV Crowley (Good Omens), Post-Canon, Requited Love, Title from a Hozier Song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:28:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23150056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/to_one_thing_constant_never/pseuds/to_one_thing_constant_never
Summary: After Armageddon, Aziraphale and Crowley have some emotional unpacking to do. But... they wouldn't know where to start. They let music do some of the job for them.This is how I imagine the Ineffable Partners confessed their love for one another, inspired by the lyrics and music video of Almost (Sweet Music) by Hozier.Part One in my Wasteland, Baby! series.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Wasteland, Baby! [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664140
Kudos: 25





	Almost (Sweet Music)

Crowley didn’t remember allowing his corporeal heart to beat so fast, but it insisted on doing so all the same. Everything was fine! They had chosen their faces wisely and celebrated with a “rather scrumptious” lunch at the Ritz. Aziraphale wasn’t complaining about his driving for once, and they were nearly at the newly restored bookshop. So why did he feel like he was about to throw up? _Is this even what nausea feels like?_ Crowley thought to himself. _I’m a demon! I don’t throw up unless I want to, and I_ definitely _do not. Enough of this, stomach! I order you to calm the fu—_

“Are you alright there, dear boy?” Aziraphale asked, speaking for the first time since getting in the Bentley.

“Mngh?”

“Well, you are ah… ‘white-knuckling it,’ as they say.”

Crowley instantly loosened his vice-like grip on the steering-wheel. “’M fine, angel.” He could sense Aziraphale’s desire to contradict him, but the angel said nothing. They arrived at the bookshop all too soon. Crowley’s stomach lurched again. _Billows of smoke and it’s all on fire, and all those books he collected over the years gone, and where is he, where is he, no, there go his precious collections, it’s too hot, too hot, where is he, where is he, he’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead, dead, dead, dead, dead—_

“Crowley!”  
“What? Aziraphale?” Aziraphale reeled back, like he had been hit. Crowley blessed himself, realizing that he’d practically screamed at his friend. _Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid—_

“I just… that is to say… would you like to come in for a drink? But if you have things to attend to, I completely understand, I only meant—”

“No! I mean, yes! I mean…” _Shit._ “No, my schedule’s completely free and probably will be from here on out, and yes, I would love a drink.” He got out of the car before he could further make a fool of himself. He could feel Aziraphale’s eyes on his back as he sauntered towards the storefront.

“After you,” Aziraphale said, welcoming Crowley in. As soon as the angel followed, Crowley could see him positively glow with excitement.

“It’s just as you said— all back, tip-top shape!” He ran his hands over several surfaces in rapid succession, as if taking a headcount. He picked up a few individual books and leafed through them gently. “Not a page out of place.” He whispered to himself. _Nothing singed_ he did not say, but it hung in the air nonetheless. Crowley’s corporeal heart slowed down as Aziraphale bustled about. All was back to normal. Seemingly _. For now. Until the shoe dropped. Until Heaven and Hell figured out their ruse. Or if Lucifer wanted revenge. Or if God Herself finally interfered. Or—_

“Crowley… something wrong, dear boy?”

“What’cha mean? I’m… what’d you say? I’m ‘absolutely tickity-boo,’angel! You got your bookshop back, I got my Bentley, we’re in the clear! Where’s that wine?”

“I’ll get that,” Aziraphale said, though he didn’t move towards the backroom. “But Crowley…well, Crowley, it doesn’t take Ethereal powers to know you’re not well.”

“Angel, s’fine—”

“Crowley, please. No need to pretend anymore, yes? On our own side as you said!” He made a fanciful gesture and offered a weak smile. “So… what is it that is causing you such anxiety, my dear?” He was worrying the hem of his waistcoat between his fingers while managing to give Crowley a resolute stare. His stubborn principality.

“Alright, alright, Aziraphale, you got me. But I’m not talking without an exorbitant amount of alcohol to back me up.” Crowley threw himself onto the couch in the backroom and stared at the ceiling. He only propped himself up when he heard the calming pop of a wine bottle being uncorked.

“To books,” he said, raising his glass. Aziraphale cocked his head.

“But you said you don’t—”

“Yeah, so this is a one time offer, so just take the toast, angel,” Crowley urged, gesturing dangerously with his glass.

“To books!” Aziraphale returned. To Crowley’s shock, his companion slammed the wine back in one go before Crowley could even put his own glass to his lips. Now, Crowley didn’t blink much, but behind his sunglasses, he was doing just that very quickly, as if trying to convince himself what he saw was real. Aziraphale _never_ rushed consumption of any sort. He treated everything he ate and drank with care, taking delicate nibbles and slow sips in order to savor every moment. Crowley didn’t know it, but his mouth was agape. Aziraphale, of course, saw this.

“Can you blame me, my fellow? We’ve known each other since The Beginning, and only now are we considering an honest, straight-forward conversation about feelings.”

“Oh… was that what this was?”

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows, and then quickly realized Crowley was not joking. “Oh, dear Lord, I should have gotten out the whisky. Yes, Crowley! I asked you what was upsetting you so, and now that we don’t have to dance around each other, I thought… well I thought I could have an honest answer!”

“I! Ngk… well angel that’s! Huh…” Crowley didn’t know how to respond to that one. It’s not that he was going to lie, per se, he was just going to… do what exactly? He wasn’t sure. Crowley wasn’t sure if he knew how to be straightforward with Aziraphale. They’d spent millennia playing cloak and dagger, how could the angel just expect the demon to be honest out of the blue?

“Angel, I—”

“No, Crowley, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pried,” Aziraphale said suddenly. “That was rude, you… you don’t owe me an explanation of your own feelings or anything of the sort, you shouldn’t feel the need to say anything.”

“Oh, Aziraphale…” Crowley sat up and leaned forward. The angel was looking down at his own shoes, ashamed at himself it seemed. Like a kicked puppy. Or, more accurately, as Crowley knew, like someone who was used to being belittled. “I’ve said to you before, I wouldn’t lie to you. So I guess being forthright is the next natural step. But I… I just wouldn’t know where to start.”

Aziraphale looked up. “Next natural step in… what process exactly?”

“Who knows? The Arrangement? Nah…” Crowley took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He had blinked too much earlier for sure. He saw Aziraphale’s breath hitch as it often did when he exposed his eyes. He had yet to figure out what that was all about. “Friendship? Without people watching, I suppose. We don’t have to keep saying ‘the Arrangement’ I suppose.”

“Yes, scheming every time we simply wanted to get lunch was rather annoying,” Aziraphale agreed. He poured himself more wine. “But… back to the point Crowley, you don’t have to feel like you have to tell me what’s making you upset. After all, male humans rarely share feelings with each other!”

“Eh, I’m only male some of the time.” He replied with a toothy grin.

“I was trying to make a joke. Laugh at my joke.” Aziraphale pouted, clutching his wine.

“Hah?” Crowley offered. Here is where they would have sat in a comfortable silence. Here is where they would have started to consume more and more alcohol until one of them started on some litany or another about the meaning of existence or dolphins or the like. But instead, music began to play.

“Was that you?”

“No, that’s Beethoven.”

“Wha— yesss, I know that’s Beethoven,” Crowley spat. “I meant that I didn’t miracle that to play! I don’t think…” he said, and then promptly hiccupped.

“Neither did I! I don’t believe I did so anyway… though I do love this piece.” The angel put down his glass and stood. “Come along then.” He extended his hand.

“Angel, I’m not going to gavotte with you.”

“No but… silly boy this is not a song one would gavotte to! The tempo’s all wrong.” Aziraphale giggled. _So he’s_ drunk _drunk, then._ “We’ve danced around each other this long, may as well actually dance! Or has the Serpent of Eden no feet?” The angel proceeded to boop the demon as he said this. This was obviously rather upsetting, and gave Crowley all the more reason to refuse, but he knew Aziraphale would keep insisting until the world ended a second time, or until he got his way. He was an expert pouter, especially while inebriated. Crowley took his hand and stood.

“Yesss, yess, alright, alright. I’m leading though, because Sssatan knows you can’t waltz well, essspecially like thisss.” He was glad this song was less than two minutes long. He would indulge the angel and then get them to both sober up.

“What are you giggling about now,” Crowley asked a few bars later.

“It’s just that, last time we danced, you had a wig on! And oh, you were so miserable the whole night, absolutely childish the whole time.”

“They make my scalp itch! Well those did anyway. Spin.” He assisted Aziraphale in a spin; it was a good thing he was steadying him, because his two left feet tangled together almost causing the angel to trip. “Anyway, back then, your ruffles and bows were somehow more horrendous than they are now.”

“Excuse me, I was fashionable then, and I remain so today.”

The song ended, and Crowley bowed. When he looked up, he did not expect for Aziraphale to peck him on the lips.

“Aziraphale?” Crowley gasped, taking a few steps back. Aziraphale blushed. “Oh dear. I apologize.”

“This wasn’t the gavotte, remember? You really should sober up. Here I will too, we should have earlier—”

“I know.”

“Huh?”

“I said I know. I…” Aziraphale plopped down into his armchair, defeated. “We kissed… Crowley, we kissed before lunch. You grabbed my lapels and kissed me so sweetly while we were in the Bently. Was that real?” Crowley knelt down and put a hand on his knee.

“Angel, yes! We’re safe, you don’t have to question reality anymore, if that’s what—”

“I meant the feelings behind it, you idiot!” Aziraphale finally met him eye to eye. His icy eyes were brimming with tears, but he was keeping them back. “You said we would address it ‘later’ and then just earlier you referred to us as ‘friends!’ so what exactly do you desire, Crowley?”

“Angel… you should sober up.” He wanted to have this conversation; he really did. But not while Aziraphale wasn’t himself.

“I am perfectly sober. While you were sulking I did a minor miracle: my glass just has grape juice in it. Not fermented.”

Crowley clenched his jaw. 6000 years working for Hell taught him how important it was to _never_ be outsmarted. Now, he knew around Aziraphale, every conversation was a battle of wits, but to be tricked so easily during their first ever moment of complete freedom? It felt like betrayal of some sort.

“What happened to being honest?” Crowley hissed.

“Alright, admittedly, this was rather hypocritical, however—”

“ ‘However’ nothing, Aziraphale!” he shouted. He let out a growl and threw himself down into the couch. He wanted nothing more than to walk out and drive away… but no, that wasn’t true. He didn’t want that. Perhaps that was his instinct, but what he wanted more than anything was to figure out whatever in Heaven was happening.

“Alright, give me a reason to not walk out and go back to my flat right now,” Crowley said, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible. He finished the rest of his wine in a messy gulp. Aziraphale exhaled loudly.

“Because we need to plan. We were foolish to think our scheming was over, Crowley.”

“Angel, Heaven and Hell are going to leave us alone! You said it yourself, Beelzebub looked about ready to shit zemself!”

“I wasn’t really speaking about that,” Aziraphale said, rolling his eyes. “And even if I was, we both know you don’t believe this reprieve will last forever.”

“Oh, because you know what goes on in my head?”

“Don’t be petulant, Crowley.”

“There you go, up on your high horse again! How’s the view?” He stood up and turned on his heels. “This is going nowhere.” Before he could move further, he involuntarily sniffed the air; Aziraphale had performed a miracle.

“You’re not going to be able to get through that door, now sit down,” Aziraphale commanded, his voice a little too gentle.

“Who’s being petulant now?” Crowley replied with a scowl. He hated feeling trapped. “What do you want from me?”

“Wha— what do you think, Crowley? You were the one who wanted me to start being so unprecedentedly transparent with you during Armageddon, which I admit was wise, but, but I didn’t know that at the time! You wanted me to run away with you! We helped save the world, we shared each other’s bodies…Then today you kissed me, as in _properly snogged me_! Then when I asked you what was troubling you, you completely avoided the question, and then again you were—”

“Because I love you, Aziraphale!”

The silence was deafening. The angel’s anxiety-driven monologue had created enough energy in the room to make Crowley feel claustrophobic, but his stillness made the air feel heavy, impossible to breathe.

“Well…” Aziraphale laughed “Well of course my dear boy, you’re my friend! Friends love each other!”

“You know full well what I meant, Aziraphale.” _OhShitOhShitOhShitOhShit!_

And suddenly, Crowley was being kissed again. Aziraphale must have used some supernatural speed, because even with his motion-sensitive eyes, Crowley hadn’t noticed him rush over. Whatever the case may be, angelic soft lips were enveloping his own. Finally gaining his senses, Crowley returned the kiss. He tried to keep his sharp incisors out of the way, but when the angel’s lip brushed up against them, a beautiful moan rang out. Taking the hint, Crowley nibbled on Aziraphale’s lower lip, sucking a little. He could feel a smile form against his own lips, and he slowly broke the kiss.

“I’ll take it my affections are returned?”

Aziraphale stared at him and sighed dramatically. “Yes! That is rather what I’ve been trying to get to this whole time!”

“Wha—well then! I suppose… well why didn’t you just ask?” Crowley sputtered.

“You’re impossible.”

“You wouldn’t have me any other way,” the demon said, finally breaking their embrace.

“What are you in the mood for now?” Aziraphale asked as he watched Crowley switch disks on the gramophone.

“Duke Ellington! Because as much as you are, frankly, an _awful_ dancer, ‘It Don’t Mean a Thing’ to me.” Aziraphale looked like he was about to protest, but Crowley silenced him with his mouth and grabbed him by the hips.

“I think I could get used to that,” the angel said with his trade mark dimpled smile.

“Good. I fully intend on making you mine until Time Itself stops… and maybe even past that,” the demon replied kissing his love once more on the forehead. _I don’t think I ever will get used to this,_ he did not say, though he would in the coming days. He would say much more in the coming days, weeks, years, centuries. But for now, Crowley was content enough to dance with his angel.

**Author's Note:**

> Relevant Lyrics:  
> "I wouldn't know where to start,  
> 'Sweet Music' playing 'In the Dark'  
> Be still 'My Foolish Heart'  
> Don't ruin this song on me."
> 
> "Tell me who and I'll be thanking them,  
> The numbered lovers of Duke Ellington...  
> 'It Don't Mean a Thing'"
> 
> "I laugh like me again,  
> She laughs like you."
> 
> "... she turns to me awake,  
> And asks is everything alright?"
> 
> Please say hello, or leave your favorite Crowley quote in the comments!


End file.
